


Shadowbox

by SoloChaos



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: F/M, Gen, Inspired by Fanfiction, M/M, Mpreg, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 22:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13222914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoloChaos/pseuds/SoloChaos
Summary: I walked on cobblestones on the edge of something / I could not name: new land of unalterable decisions / like a retinue of assassins coming right for me–Shadowbox; Susan Rich





	Shadowbox

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lake (beyond_belief)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/gifts).
  * Inspired by [He said the body is a machine / and he may well be right](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11996601) by [Lake (beyond_belief)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beyond_belief/pseuds/Lake). 



> For Lake and based on one of their (her?) fics, "He said the body is a machine / and he may well be right". I think this reads fine as a standalone, but you should read Lake's fic first anyways. Actually, you should read everything they've/she's ever written, because it's all amazing.
> 
> Original characters belong to Lake; others belong to... themselves? It's based on the HBO show, though, not the actual people. Whomever they belong to, it's not me.
> 
> I wanted to get this fic up before the new year, so if it's rushed and disjointed... sorry? Also, the characterization is probably shitty, especially Brad's, but it's hard to write a short story with an emotional arc when the character is emotionally stunted.
> 
> And yes, my first GK fic is mpreg. Let it never be said that I'm not bold as fuck.

Brad doesn’t like to go home.

It doesn’t take a detective to figure that out. Or a Recon Marine, as it may be. Brad’s at their house nearly every moment that’s not spent sleeping or working. Ray doesn’t mind, of course, and neither does Mel– Brad’s one of Ray’s closest friends, and besides, another adult to wrangle the handful that is their son is nothing to sneeze at– but the fact that Brad’s becoming a fixture in their house is sort of alarming to Ray. 

Brad lives alone, Ray knows, and he can’t figure out what Brad’s avoiding. It has to be avoidance keeping Brad away from his home; Ray can’t think of any other plausible reason.

(“Maybe he’s lonely,” Mel had suggested.

Ray had snorted. “Lonely?” he’d said. “Brad? Lonely?” 

Mel had raised an eyebrow. “Yes,” she’d said. “Lonely.” 

There’d been too much wrong with that idea for Ray to even know where to begin, so he’d just left it at that.)

So, anyway, Ray’s former team leader is now his kid’s de facto nanny, which would be weird except for how Brad was basically his team’s nanny back in Iraq, making sure everyone ate, slept, drank, shit, whatever. What  _is_  weird– or at least unexpected– is that Brad is fucking pregnant.

(It’s a stupid, outdated, baseless stereotype that men who get pregnant aren’t “real men” or whatever-the-fuck, and even though Ray knows it’s stupid, got fucking pregnant  _himself,_  that’s still his knee-jerk thought about pregnant dudes. Brad, the stone-cold motherfucking Iceman, got himself knocked up. What the hell.)

Whatever. Brad kicks as much ass as he did before he got pregnant. Besides the obvious change in his physical appearance, the only indications that he’s pregnant are the abstention from alcohol and the switch from his bike to a car. Hell, when  _Ray_  was seven months pregnant, he doesn’t think he ever fucking shut up about heartburn and his goddamn ankles.

Brad is, predictably, rather tight-lipped on the whole  _egnancy-pray ituation-say._  It’s not that Ray expected anything less, (or, technically, more,) but it’s getting sort of annoying. He still doesn’t know who Brad’s baby daddy is. Which is fine, because Ray is as fucking patient as… someone who’s patient. Gandhi, or something. Gandhi was probably patient.

So, it’s a Thursday afternoon. Mel’s still at work, and Ray’s making dinner while Brad helps Cal clean his room– Brad made it a game, like every toy put away is five points or something, and Ray’s pretty sure Cal’s only messy now so they can play, but whatever– when the doorbell rings.

It’s Captain Nathaniel Fick.

“Sir,” Ray says automatically, before remembering that he doesn’t have to call the man that anymore. “I mean, shit, Nate.”

“Ray,” Nate says, giving Ray the look he usually gives him, which is something between amusement and confusion. “Is Brad here?” 

“Uh,” Ray says, mostly confused by the fact that Nate knew to come to Ray’s house for Brad. “Yeah. Brad!” he calls, turning his head to shout in the direction of Cal’s room.

“No shouting in the house, Daddy!” Cal shouts back.

“I wasn’t shouting, I was requesting Brad’s presence!” Ray calls back. 

“Be quiet, Daddy!” 

Brad’s smirking as he makes his way to the door. “‘Be quiet, Daddy.’ Even your own offspring wants you to shut–” 

He stops when he sees Nate, and the look of shock on his face is almost comedic.

“Brad,” Nate says, sounding strangled.

Ray looks back at him and has to do a double-take, because Nate is staring at Brad’s belly like it’s bomb, seconds away from exploding.

“Nate,” Brad says, sounding equally strangled.

Nate’s face is ghost-white, and Ray is thinking that it seems like an overreaction on Nate’s part when it finally clicks.

“Oh, shit,” Ray says with a sigh.

 

 

Ray lends them his living room, because he’s considerate like that, and also because he maybe sort of definitely wants to eavesdrop. Unfortunately, Brad and Nate are either speaking too quietly for him to hear, or they aren’t speaking at all.

Cal clomps downstairs a couple moments later, clearly done with waiting for Brad.

“Hey kiddo,” Ray says quickly, before Cal can burst in on Brad and Nate. “Brad’s… friend stopped by. They’re in the living room.” 

Cal’s shoulders slump. “Adult talk?” 

“Yeah, buddy,” Ray says, ruffling his hair. “Adult talk.” 

Cal considers this. “Is it Nate?” 

Ray blinks, startled. “I– what?” 

“Is it Nate?” Cal repeats. 

Cal has met Nate a grand total of once, only a couple months after Cal was born. If Cal remembers that, Ray will eat his shoe.

“Yeah, it’s Nate,” Ray says carefully. “How did you know?” 

Cal shrugs. “Brad told me that his baby’s other daddy is a man named Nate.” He frowns, looking troubled. “Does that mean Brad won’t come over anymore?” 

“What?” Ray says, still processing everything. Why the hell did his four-year-old son get to find out that the fucking  _LT_  is Brad’s baby daddy before Ray did? 

“Now that Nate’s here, doesn’t Brad have to go away?” Cal rephrases. 

Ray blinks. “Uh, no, bud, not necessarily. Why do you say that?” If Brad told Cal who the other father of his child is, what else has he told him? Jesus Christ,  _Nate_  must be what Brad’s been avoiding. What has Brad told Cal to make him think Brad has to leave now that Nate’s here? 

Ray’s contemplating getting out a baseball bat, or maybe a carving knife, and finding out exactly what Nate’s intentions are with Bradley Colbert when Cal clarifies.

“Mommy said that babies happen when two people love each other a lot, and Brad said he loves Nate a lot, sort of.” Cal frowns thoughtfully. “So now that Nate is here, doesn’t it mean that the baby will come out of Brad’s tummy now and he’ll be too busy with the baby to come over?” 

“Uh,” Ray says, pushing thoughts of baseball bats aside as he wonders which thing to address first. “Well, it– it takes two people to get the baby  _into_  someone’s tummy, but the baby comes out even if there’s only one person. Brad’s baby will leave his tummy in about two months.” 

“Oh,” Cal says, considering this. “So, we only have two more months with Brad?” 

“Well, it’s not like we’ll never see him again,” Ray tells him. “But it probably won’t be as much, no.” 

“Oh,” Cal says again. He looks so dismayed that Ray has to pull him into a hug.

“Things are going to change, but that doesn’t mean anything bad,” Ray assures him. “We’ll visit Brad a lot, okay?” 

“Okay,” Cal mumbles.

Ray kisses his forehead. “You can watch TV if you want,” he says. “In me and Mommy’s room.” 

Cal’s face immediately brightens. “Really?” 

“Just one show,” Ray says.

Cal’s already bounding upstairs. His shoulders are still a little too slumped, but at least he doesn’t look devastated anymore. “Okay!” 

Brad and Nate still in the living room when Mel gets home, and Ray hears her surprised greeting when she enters the house. Nate says something, voice still too soft for the words to be distinguishable. Ridiculous. Outdoor voices only in Ray’s home. 

_“Nate Fick,”_  she mouths at Ray the moment she enters the kitchen, shutting the door carefully behind her.

“I  _know,”_  he exclaims in a whisper. “He just showed up out of the blue.” 

“Holy shit,” Mel murmurs contemplatively. “You know, I think he was crying.” 

“Bullshit,” Ray hisses back, except he totally believes it. Nate already looked kind of teary-eyed before Ray left to give them privacy.

“Did you have any idea?” Mel asks.

He shakes his head. “Not a clue,” he says honestly. There’d been some tension or whatever back in Iraq, but that was years ago, and they’d gone their separate ways. At least, that’s what Ray’d thought.

“Hm,” Mel says. “Well, their kid’s gonna be gorgeous.” 

“Yeah,” Ray says. “I mean, what?” 

Mel smirks, kissing the side of his mouth. “Cal hasn’t had his bath yet, right? I’ll go do that.” 

She’s still upstairs with Cal when there’s a soft knock on the kitchen door.

“I’m heading out now, Ray. Thanks for letting us use your house,” Nate says. Behind him, Brad’s on the couch with his eyes closed and his head tipped back, leaning on the cushions.

“Oh, no problem,” Ray says. He flounders for a second, trying to ignore the way Nate’s eyes are watery and red-rimmed. “Do you, uh. Want to stay for dinner?” 

Nate smiles politely. “No, I– I’d better not.” His head twitches, like he wants to look back at Brad but is forcing himself not to. “I’ll see you around.” 

“Sure,” Ray says, trying to mask how  _fucking uncomfortable_  he is. “See you.” 

Brad’s still in the same position after Ray’s shut the door and Nate’s driven away. Ray drops down on the sofa next to him. “So.” 

Brad cracks an eyelid open. “What?”

“Am I supposed to threaten him with my shotgun now or something?” Ray asks, raising an eyebrow. 

Brad snorts, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Only if you want me to actually shoot you.”

“Wow, harsh, homes. See if I ever defend your fucking honor,” Ray says, trying to keep the tension out of his voice. He tries to let them slip into a silence, comfortable or not, but he’s never been very good at ignoring elephants in a room. Especially elephants as big as this. “So, uh.”

“Don’t say it,” Brad mutters. 

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Yeah, probably,” Ray concedes. 

The breath Brad lets out sounds sort of like a chuckle. “Yeah. It’s Nate.” 

“What the fuck, Bradley,” Ray says mildly. “I know you two had that eye-fucking campaign in Iraq, but when did that turn into actual fucking?” 

He’s not expecting a real answer, but Brad sounds serious when he says, “It started the night of his paddle party.” 

Ray sputters. “I… what… that– that was  _years_  ago, homes!” 

Brad raises an eyebrow at him. “I’m aware, thank you.” 

“And you guys have been fucking this  _entire time?”_ Ray demands, and he cannot  _believe_  he didn’t know this.

“Not regularly,” Brad says with a shrug. “Well, for the most part. I guess it was a regular thing for a while earlier this year. He was doing this thing at UC San Diego. I didn’t realize I was pregnant until after he left.” 

He’s so matter-of-fact that Ray kind of feels like he’s stepped into some bizarro world.

Brad sounds almost self-deprecating as he chuckles. “I’d wanted a kid, a long time before I actually got pregnant. Figured this saved me a trip to the sperm bank.”

Well, that accounts for his whole “wasn’t entirely an accident” thing he  _never fucking explained._

“And you didn’t tell him?” Ray asks. He’s trying to keep the judgement out of his tone, but he’s pretty sure he fails spectacularly, considering the way Brad’s expression snaps into his Iceman bitch-face. “Dude, I’m not trying to… I don’t know, start anything, but you’re seven months pregnant and he’s only finding out now? And not because you  _told_  him, either. And it’s  _Fick;_  he’s got a bigger sense of duty than Uncle Sam or whoever. He’s not gonna–” 

“In California, the latest you can get in abortion is between 24 and 26 weeks.” 

Ray blinks at the non-sequitur. “What–” 

“I’m 29 weeks pregnant,” Brad says, staring very resolutely the carpet. “It was a worst case scenario thing. If Nate didn’t…” He presses his lips together. “I didn’t want it to be an option.” 

Ray’s stomach lurches at the implication. “You seriously thought Nate would’ve made you–” 

“No, no. Fuck no.” Brad says quickly, shaking his head. “I just–  _I_  didn’t want to be tempted.” 

Ray stares at him. Brad doesn’t talk about his baby a lot, but when he does, it’s pretty fucking clear he’d move heaven and earth for Junior.

“I want this baby,” Brad says haltingly, like it’s hurting him to say this much. “But I was scared I wanted  _him_  more. Enough that if he wanted  _me_  but not the baby…” He shrugs. 

“…oh,” Ray says. He wants to say more, but he’s pretty sure that this is the only time Brad will ever willingly share these things, so he forces himself to stay quiet.

“I hadn’t even considered…  _having_  more with him, having him in my life, until I got pregnant. Then it was all I could think about.” Brad sighs, resting his face in his hands. “I don’t want him in my life because he thinks it’s his ‘duty’ or some shit,” he says, voice muffled by his palms. “I want him because  _he_  wants…” He trails off, like it’s too much for him to say. It probably is.

“Yeah, homes, I get it,” Ray says, and he does, at least intellectually. Fick’s the exact kind of guy who’d stay in a relationship just because of a surprise kid and a sense of duty. Even if the relationship made him miserable. 

Brad leans back, shifting his weight uncomfortably. He offers Ray a grim smile. “He says he wants whatever I want.” 

He doesn’t look particularly comforted by this, and Ray doesn’t blame him. “Did you tell him what you want?”

“Sort of,” Brad says, hitching a shoulder. “He’s staying until the baby is born.” 

“And then?” Ray prompts.

Brad shrugs again. “We’ll figure it out.” 

Ray sighs. “Brad…” 

“We’ll figure it out,” Brad says again.

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, they totally figure it out. And they all live very happily, forever and ever.


End file.
